Infiltration
by Hand of Zarquon
Summary: A turncoat Ghost agent is sent to compromise the base of his former masters.


INFILTRATION  
  
It was a few hours past midnight in the remote Confederate research facility. The Tarsonian sky was still dark, the light from the planet's orbital platforms providing an eerie blue glow against the blackness. Despite the late hour, a handful of scientists bustled about the compound, working on whatever project the Confederacy needed. The handful of marines guarding the compound were slowly being lulled to sleep by the warm air and the hum of the power generators. Uneventful as it was, nobody noticed the section of the perimeter fence that suddenly had a hole in it, or the slight distortion in the air caused by the cloaking device of a solitary Ghost agent.  
  
Quietly the Ghost slipped through the hole, then replaced the fence as best as he could. He glanced around to make sure that he hadn't been detected, and then stepped forward when a warning light went off in his heads-up display, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Buried between the perimeter fence and the compound's inner wall were several hundred Spider mines, and that was the only way he could approach the base without being detected. Carefully he sidestepped each mine's detection area, avoiding where his sensors told him they lay. Sweat dripped down his face as he approached the inner wall with agonizing slowness. Without warning, a Spider mine sprung up out of the ground just a few meters ahead and scuttled towards him. He trained his canister rifle on the approaching mine and fired one shot, the force of the blow knocking the machine over. Vainly it moved its legs, trying to right itself, but another shot blew them off, the servos still whirring quietly in a futile attempt to reach the Ghost. He breathed a sigh of relief, freezing in place to make sure no one had heard his shots, then continued on. A few minutes later he had reached the wall with no further incident, and there he stopped.  
  
The wall itself was reinforced concrete, and offered no purchase to climb over. The Ghost considered using his grappling hook to scale the wall, but ruled out the possibility. It would be too noisy; he would be detected. The guard towers were too heavily manned to try and fight his way through. He pondered for a moment, when he remembered that a vehicle convoy carrying supplies and munitions arrived every day at 0400. He accessed his chronometer – 0342. Eighteen minutes. He moved to a shadowy part of the wall, where he was sure no one would see him, disengaged his cloaking device, and waited.  
  
With typical Confederate punctuality, the convoy arrived a half-hour later. Noting the approaching dust cloud on the horizon, the Ghost picked up his canister rifle, recloaked, and awaited the trucks. That night, there were five, and the Ghost quietly slipped behind the last vehicle and held on to the bumper as it drove inside the gates. As soon as the truck had entered the compound, the Ghost leapt off and swiftly circled the place until he found his destination – the main science facility. Carefully avoiding the handful of patrols throughout the complex, the Ghost managed to hide in a darkened corner and wait for an opportunity to enter the science facility. After a short wait, a scientist walked out of the facility's guard shack, haggard and tired-looking. He made his way over to another cluster of buildings, and the Ghost followed. The Ghost waited as the scientist went to the bathroom and then made a stop to the cafeteria before finally returning to the facility. As they entered the guardroom, the Ghost knelt down to assure that the distortion caused by his cloaking device would not be seen. The scientist exchanged pleasantries with the guard and finally entered the building, unaware that he was being shadowed. Soon afterwards the Ghost and the scientist parted ways – the former, going to continue on his research project, the latter going to the covert ops facility, where his objective lay.  
  
Just outside of the entryway into the facility, the Ghost stopped. He knew that it would be suicide to just walk into the building, as the detectors mounted on the doorway between the science facility and the covert ops building would reveal him right away. He could disable them, but that would require that he could get off a lockdown round, and if he tried it then the two guards that stood on constant watch in front of the portal would easily detect him. But once he got in, he would be practically undetectable; he would blend in perfectly with everyone else, and he would be "just another Ghost." The guards were supposed to stop everyone from entering, but they knew better than to question someone already inside the covert ops building. The hard part was getting in.  
  
Fortunately, he had already counted on having a problem like this and was prepared. He walked around until he saw an exposed air vent, and placed a small glass vial of ammonia just inside of it. Replacing the grate, he opened it and stepped back into the shadows. Almost instantly the hallway was filled with the putrid stench.  
  
"Hoo-wee, the science boys let off a stink bomb somethin' awful," choked one of the guards, "we better get the hell outta here before it gets worse."  
  
The Ghost allowed himself a brief smile as the two guards fled the hallway, and he stepped up to the keypad that controlled the detectors. He knew better than to try and mess with it, and instead he put his rifle muzzle right on it and fired a lockdown round. His optical sensors indicated that the detectors were no longer operative, and he could pass through the doorway with impunity. He shut off his cloaking device and stepped inside.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that, unlike seemingly everything else the Confederates had, the covert ops facility was immaculate. Even the floor had a clean, antiseptic look to it that reflected the building's lighting perfectly. He nodded to a pair of guards as he passed them, and they nodded back without so much as a backwards glance – fully suited Ghosts were not uncommon in the building. Finally he arrived at his destination, the room holding the facility's mainframe. He glanced around the hallway to make sure no one was around and then entered, locking the door behind him. Another intelligence officer was sitting at one of the access terminals, absorbed in his work, the glow from the screen playing off of his black uniform. The Ghost sat at the terminal furthest from the officer and with a few commands bypassed the security systems. He immediately inserted the minidisk that he carried and began downloading weapons specifications, tactical information, and myriad other data that would prove useful to his cause. Mentally he willed the computer to download faster, as every second he spent in the facility added that much more chance of his discovery. A shadow fell over his terminal and the Ghost looked up to see the officer standing over him, reaching for his pistol.  
  
"Those are unauthorized for download, Specialist. I order you to stop at once and..."  
  
He never finished. Deftly the Ghost reached up and broke the man's neck with such speed that the officer fell dead with his mouth still open. But the Ghost knew he had overstayed his welcome. He immediately canceled the download, secured the minidisk, picked up his canister rifle and walked calmly out the door as if nothing had happened. A few paces down the hallway, the a pair of guards stopped him.  
  
"Excuse me, sir..."  
  
The Ghost's canister rifle clicked once and the speaker looked down in horror as the gore from his stomach spilled onto the ground, then slumped to his knees and died. His companion raised his weapon to fire but the Ghost was too quick, knocking him senseless with the butt of his rifle. The Ghost tramped urgently onward, trying to act as nonchalant as possible even though he heard the sound of booted feet in the hallway up ahead. Quickly he engaged his cloaking device, but not quickly enough – one of the marines saw him.  
  
"There he is!"  
  
The Ghost raced down the hallway, throwing a stun grenade at the advancing knot of soldiers, mind racing to think of anything to buy him time, or a way out. The walls and floor around him erupted in a hail of metal as the marines opened fire. He turned one corner, then another, trading shots with the pursuing marines. Ahead of him, another knot of marines appeared and instinctively he dove to the ground as both squads shot at where their quarry was a moment before, only to find that their shots were tearing into each other. In the midst of the confusion, the Ghost managed to slip away from his hunters for a brief moment. He disengaged his cloaking device and strolled casually into a room where a pair of scientists were working, shot one outright, and grabbed the other roughly by the collar.  
  
"You...get me out of here, now. I will be right behind you at all times."  
  
The scientist gagged with fear and could only nod as the Ghost disappeared into thin air. Then they both took off as fast as the scientist's legs would carry him, which to the Ghost felt agonizingly slow. They passed guards right and left but they were so intent on finding the intruder that they paid no attention to the scientist, unaware of the Ghost that was lurking right behind him. They reached the hallway that connected to the science facility and the scientist nodded to the guards. Behind him, the Ghost was unaware of the look that passed between them, but his psionic abilities warned him that something was amiss and he turned around, diving to the ground as he fired, killing the guards instantly. The scientist took off running in the opposite direction of the exit, and the Ghost grimaced beneath his helmet. He bolted for the exit, silently hoping that he would get there before any more guards appeared, but no such luck – a small horde of marines flooded the room, and from the shots being directed at him the Ghost knew that they had detected him. He dropped his cloak immediately, knowing that it would be useless, and ducked down behind a computer bank. The fire from the gauss rifles sprayed the terminal, shredding the better part of it, forcing the Ghost to retreat behind another bank, and then another. He realized what they were doing – forcing him into a corner so he couldn't escape.  
  
In desperation he began firing back, watching as one marine, then another, dropped to the ground, dead or dying, but for every one he took out, it seemed as if another two took its place. Then he saw an eruption of blood spray across the computer console, and in shock he looked down to see that his body suit had been pierced, and that blood flowed from a wound in his leg. But he continued fighting, hoping that somehow he could escape. He gasped in pain as another shot penetrated his failing suit, and another. He heard, rather than felt, his helmet get penetrated, and an intense searing pain came from right behind his ear, followed by another, and another. He screamed out in pain and fury, both in his mind and out loud, as shots penetrated his suit, coating what was left of the computer terminal and the floor with his blood, and then, inexplicably, the air around him seemed to shimmer and become almost liquid. The marines clutched their helmets, almost as if trying to cover their ears. In droves they fell to the ground, blood leaking from eyes, ears, noses, and mouths, most dead, the rest dying. The Ghost stopped screaming, and the air became still again.  
  
He shook his head and removed his helmet, conscious of the blood still flowing from his multiple injuries. Limping, he walked out of the science facility, dazed, not caring whether anyone saw him. But surprisingly there was no one alive. The guards were dead where they stood, looks of muted horror and pain on their faces. The Ghost dragged his wounded body out of the compound, his rifle behind him. He climbed into the guard tower mechanically, opened the main gate, and walked out. When he was a safe distance away, he pressed a button on his comm link to call for extraction. Then he turned to the base, trained his rifle, and fired the targeting laser.  
  
Just as his computer told him that the target had been acquired by the approaching missile, a dropship in the Sons of Korhal colors settled down nearby and he climbed in as best he could, favoring his undamaged leg. He lay down in the ship's hold and was attended to by a med officer, neither man speaking to one another except for occasional commands from the med officer, and watched out of the ship's windows as the nuclear missile descended on the base. The entire sky was filled with a bright white flash, which soon turned into the trademark mushroom cloud. The dropship shook as the blast's shockwave hit it, and both the med officer and the Ghost braced themselves automatically. The Ghost stared numbly at the base, still puzzled as to how all of the marines died. Then he was aware of the med officer tapping him on the shoulder.  
  
"Found this hanging out of your neck."  
  
The man was holding a small round metallic object, and the Ghost looked at it quizzically.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"It's a Psychic Dampener."  
  
Noting the blank look on the Ghost's face, the med officer explained.  
  
"Every Ghost has one implanted by the Confederacy. Apparently they don't want anyone getting too powerful."  
  
"Why?"  
  
The med officer smiled. "I'm surprised you don't know. Ghosts possess among the most powerful minds in the galaxy, more so than even the Protoss. The Confederacy put them in as a precautionary measure. Without these things, Ghosts could kill with just a thought, or so it was rumored. I don't think anyone bothered to see if that was true."  
  
The Ghost took the small metal thing in his hand almost reverently, then crushed it in his fist, looking back at the ashes of the base.  
  
"It's true." 


End file.
